


Next Door

by Magfreak



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-14 00:57:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9149761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magfreak/pseuds/Magfreak
Summary: Tom and Sybil are next door neighbors.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is the evolution of their friendship from Sybil's perspective.

  **DAY 1**

"So did you meet your new neighbor?"

Sybil came into her living area from the kitchen in the back of her small Dublin townhouse to find her best friend Gwen standing at the front window.

"Don't stand there!"

Gwen turned toward Sybil with a grin. "Why not? It's a nice view."

Sybil rolled her eyes and walked over to the window to pull Gwen away, but she caught sight of the man she'd met the week before, when he'd knocked on her door to introduce himself and let her know he'd rented the adjoining townhouse and would be moving in in a few days. The "view" that Gwen had referred to _was_ nice, especially up close, but he'd been interrupted by a phone call and after talking long enough for Sybil to overhear the caller's voice and hear him say her name (Sarah), he went on his way with a wave and a wink.

Sybil and Gwen watched him go back and forth from the truck parked on the street with boxes a couple of times before Sybil spoke up again.

"His name is Tom," Sybil said finally. "And before you get any ideas, you should know he has a girlfriend."

Sure enough, just as the word had left Sybil's mouth, a young woman stepped out of the house to hold the door open for him as he brought in another box.

"Chatted him up already, have you?" Gwen asked finally stepping away from the window and following Sybil to the living room sofa.

"Yes and no," Sybil said, sitting down with a sigh. "He stopped by to introduce himself last week. Mrs. Connelly said he rented the garage—"

"But I thought it was meant to be shared."

"Technically, but I don't have a car, and he offered to pay extra for it. Anyway, I'd only just opened the door when someone rung him. It was a woman. I can only assume a bloke who looks like that is not single."

Gwen laughed. "So you've met _and_ you've checked him out!"

Sybil laughed too. "Well, I'm not blind and happy to concede he's nice looking, but like I said—"

"Yeah, sure, a woman called him—maybe it was his mother. I know plenty of handsome men who are only too happy to stay single."

"Which is not an endorsement. But please, darling, the last thing I need or want is to get involved with my next-door neighbor. What happens if it ends badly and he decides to torture me with loud parties every night? These walls are very thin or do I need to remind you about the percussionist who just moved out."

"I suppose you're right," Gwen said. "Pity. You could have used a good shag."

Sybil grabbed the pillow next to her and threw it at Gwen as the latter fell into a fit of giggles.

 

* * *

 

**DAY 4**

Given how few unannounced visits she got, it took Sybil several minutes to realize her doorbell was ringing. It was a woman who looked to be in her late 20s, about Sybil's own age.

"Hi," she said brightly. "You must be Sybil."

Sybil's brow furrowed slightly.

"I'm Sarah. Tom next-door is my—"

"Oh, right," Sybil said quickly.

"Yeah, sorry for the intrusion, but I'm in a bit of a fix. He was supposed to meet me, but I couldn't leave work on time and my phone decided to die all of a sudden. Would you mind terribly, if I . . . "

Sybil smiled. "Of course." She walked into her kitchen to grab the handset of her cordless phone.

Sarah smiled as she took it. "A landline! Ha! Just the other day Tom was laughing at me for still having one."

"It belongs to the landlady, Mrs. Connelly," Sybil said, "but I've grown rather dependent on it. Without it, I'd never be able to find my mobile."

Sarah laughed and nodded. "Right?"

While Sybil waited, Sarah dialed and then talked to Tom, whom she only referred to as "darling." After several minutes of planning when they'd meet and a bit of gushing—from what Sybil could hear on Sarah's side—Sarah finally hung up. Turning to Sybil, she said, "If only the honeymoon period never ended."

Sybil smiled. "If only."

Sarah sighed and looked around. "Well, it was lovely to have met you, Sybil. Maybe I'll see you around, yeah?"

"Maybe. I'm a doctor, so I'm afraid my hours are bit odd," Sybil said as she walked Sarah to the door.

"Well, don't be afraid to knock on Tom's door if you need anything. He can be a bit of a hermit, especially when he's in writing mode."

"He's a writer?"

"Of sorts. The car thing is what really pays the bills, though it hasn't done much for his social skills, I'm afraid. He'd happily live under the bonnet of one if he could."

Sarah rolled her eyes good-naturedly as one does when discussing at the bad habits of loved ones. Sybil felt a slight pang of jealousy, not about her new neighbor exactly—though she considered Sarah a lucky girl, sure—but at the the feeling of loving someone in spite of the annoyances they brought into your life. It was one she was familiar with thanks to Gwen and her husband, John, whose work had brought him and Gwen and eventually Sybil herself to Ireland.

Once out the door, Sarah waved as she walked down the steps, heading down the street, rather than across the porch to Tom's. Sybil looked at his door for a long moment, then at Sarah's retreating form, then at Tom's door again.

A sudden realization came to her.

This was not the girl who had helped him move in.

Sybil's shoulders drooped, and though she wasn't sure why, she felt herself fill with disappointment.

"A playboy," she muttered. "Figures." Then she closed her door.

* * *

 

**DAY 10**

"Hello?"

"Hello?"

Sybil stepped into the garage. "It's Sybil. I got your note?"

Tom's head popped up over the open bonnet of a car that to Sybil looked old but rather fancy, and he greeted her with a surprised smile that, despite the decision she'd made not to like him, she found endearing.

She was about to smile back as he stepped between the car he'd been working on and the newer, more sensible model parked next to it, but her cheeks were subconsciously rendered immobile by the sight of his shirtless torso.

_Bloody hell._

"Hi," he said brightly.

Sybil looked around— _anywhere but at him_ , she thought—and tried not to wring her hands. "I like what you've done with it," she said hoping to come off as nonchalant. _Please put a bloody shirt on_.

"I'm a bit of a car nut," he said. If he'd noticed how nervous he was making her he wasn't showing it.

"Clearly."

He stood watching her with a smile for several minutes, until Sybil couldn't avoid his eyes any longer. "I suppose if I ever need help with one I can call you." _Heavens, why am I flirting!_

"Absolutely," he answered without hesitation. "Or I could teach you, if you like?"

Sybil bit her lip to keep the smirk of her face. _Of course, he would flirt back._ Something had to account for the parade of girls that showed up at his door. Something other than his looks. And his obvious charm. And those eyes. And— _STOP!_

She'd counted at least five—Sarah among them—and he'd been there less than two weeks. Whenever Sybil noticed Sarah going up the steps to Tom's from her living room window, she considered going out to talk to her and telling her the truth. _You've a lothario for a boyfriend._

But then Sybil remembered that _she_ would have to live with the fallout. In any case, whenever she saw Tom himself, it never looked like he was being sneaky exactly. Sybil wondered if perhaps it was all just their arrangement. Shaking the thought away now, she said, "So why was it you wanted to talk?"

Tom blinked a few times at her question, then shook his head and smiled to himself as he turned away from her.

_Was he blushing?_

He grabbed his shirt from the floor and slipped it back on. "Mrs. Connelly said you'd stored a few boxes in here—"

"Oh!" Sybil exclaimed. "I'd completely forgot. I'll get them out of your way. I told her I would if anyone rented the garage."

"No, it's all right," Tom said, taking a step toward her. "I just wanted to show you where I put them in case you needed them."

Tom walked past her and pointed up to a built-in wood shelf behind her.

"Were those there before?" Sybil asked.

Tom shook his head. "Mrs. Connelly said her last renter bought them but left them behind unassembled. I offered to do it for her. It made it easier to make room for the second car anyway."

Sybil turned back to him. He had a nice face—not just that it was nice to look at, though it was . . . his smile looked genuine, _kind_ even. Despite evidence to the contrary, he didn't seem the playboy type.

_Perhaps that's what they mean when they say, "It's always the nice ones."_

"I met Sarah the other day," Sybil heard herself say.

His face brightened, which was not the reaction she'd expected. "Yeah, she said as much. And she said she liked you, which is rather incredible because she's the hardest person to win over that I know."

"You should be kinder to her, and not . . . "

Tom's brow furrowed in genuine curiosity. "And not what?"

"Tom?"

Both of them turned as a woman came into the garage from the alley holding a large soup pot.

_Another one!_

"Oh, hi," Tom said. Turning back to Sybil and pointing back and forth between her and this new woman, he said, "Sybil, Moira. Moira, Sybil. Mo, do you mind waiting inside? The keys are just there."

"Sure," she said, shifting the weight of the pot onto one hand and picking up the keys on a nearby table with the other. "I don't have long. I need to be home in forty-five minutes."

"I'll be right in," Tom answered, and Moira went out the door on the other side of the garage toward the back door of Tom's house, but not before calling out, "Nice meeting you, Sybil!"

"I'm sorry," he said, looking at Sybil again, "what were you saying?"

"Never mind," Sybil said with a roll of her eyes, and without another word, turned to leave.

She heard Tom calling her back, but she didn't bother to turn around.

* * *

  **DAY 23**

"May I be honest?"

Sybil smirked into her wine glass before taking a sip. "Are you ever not?"

Gwen laughed. "Fair point."

The two friends were enjoying a late Saturday lunch out together and Sybil had brought up her promiscuous neighbor, Tom Branson, something that Gwen had noticed her doing an awful lot since he'd moved in.

"All right, then, what great truth do you have to tell me?"

"I think you have a crush on him," Gwen said plainly.

"What? I do not!"

Gwen laughed again. "Sybil, we've barely talked about anything else today. And every time I see you or talk with you, you have a full report on his activities."

"You're exaggerating."

Gwen picked up her phone. "Have you read through our texts recently?"

Sybil looked at her own phone, sitting on the table next to her plate, as if it were a traitor. With a roll of her eyes, she grabbed it and dropped it in her purse. "Gwen, you know me to be a sensible person—"

"Too sensible, even."

"I was an excellent student at uni. I went to medical school. People entrust me with their children's health. I've never taken any shit from silly men."

"You've hardly taken anything from any men at all," Gwen cut in with a smile.

"Yes! So why would I suddenly be interested in a man who seems bent on a mission to bed half of Dublin?"

Leaning forward with her chin on her hand, Gwen sighed and said, "I don't know, darling, you tell me."

Sybil opened her mouth to speak, but after a long moment merely dropped her face into her hands. "What's wrong with me?"

Gwen chuckled. "Nothing! He's fit! Having a crush on a nice looking person is normal human behavior."

"So you don't think I'm a nutter?"

"Not for that. What's not normal is avoiding said person and then making silly assumptions about his life and then obsessing about said assumptions. Talk to him. Maybe he's nice."

"I doubt it," Sybil said poutily, which made Gwen smile. "Men who are that gorgeous are rarely nice. And anyway, I don't need a man."

"I know you don't. I've never said you needed a man. I've said you need a good shag, and this crush is evidence that your subconscious agrees with me."

Sybil rolled the stem of her wineglass between her fingers and contemplated the swirling liquid for a long quiet minute. Finally, she took a sip and said, "So what am I supposed to do, just knock on his door and ask if he wants to have a drink?"

"Or maybe just not run the other direction next time you see him."

"But what if I'm right about him being a playboy?"

"For all your talk about the girls who pop by all the time, you've never complained about any noise that would indicate that he's . . . you know . . . showing them a good time?"

Sybil giggled at Gwen's use of euphemism.

"I'm serious, Syb. You've told me the walls are paper-thin. Shouldn't you be able to hear all the shagging he's supposedly doing?"

Sybil thought for a moment. "Well, if he isn't shagging them, what could he possibly be doing?"

Gwen winked. "A good question for you to ask him, I think."

* * *

**DAY 26**

Of course, it took Sybil a few days to work up the nerve.

And of course, when she finally knocked on his door, he wasn't alone.

A harried young woman Sybil couldn't imagine was more than 20 years old opened the door, and as soon as she saw Sybil, her eyes widened and she yelled out, "TOM, YOU'RE SAVED!"

Before Sybil knew what was happening, the girl grabbed Sybil's wrist and pulled her through the house, out to the small yard and into the garage, where Tom was sitting on the floor trying to reach a cut on the back of his arm that had bled through his shirt.

"Did you get the first-aid kit?" he said, looking up. "Oh, um, hello," he added, a bit bewildered when he caught sight of Sybil. "Cait, I asked for the first-aid kit. You didn't need to bother my neighbor—I'm very sorry about this."

"No, it's OK—she didn't," Sybil said quickly.

"I didn't bother anyone," Caitlin said with a roll of her eyes. "She was knocking on your door when I went into the house."

Tom's eyes widened in surprise, and immediately Sybil recognized the expression in the eyes that had greeted her at the door. _His sister?_

"You were coming over here?" he asked.

Sybil tucked a hair behind her ear and nodded, hoping the blush she felt on her cheeks was not obvious.

Caitlin went on. "Anyway, you know I hate blood, and Sarah said she's a doctor, so it seemed the logical thing to do to bring her to you."

At the word "blood," Sybil reacted and really looked at the mess Tom's cut had made for the first time. "Oh, heavens! What happened?" She quickly stepped over to Tom and kneeled down behind him so she could really look at the extent of the cut.

"He tripped and fell and there was a box cutter out," Caitlin answered, pointing at the offending object, which was on the floor next to him.

As she bent down to pick up it, Sybil said, "Would you grab that kit, um . . . ?"

"Caitlin!" she filled in cheerfully. "And yes, I'll get it now."

After Caitlin had bounded out of the garage, Sybil touched the area around the cut. Then, she grabbed the sleeve of his T-shirt between her fingers, used to the box cutter to tear a whole near the seam and then tore the sleeve off.

The quickness and ease with which she did it surprised Tom and kept him silent.

"I'm afraid stitches and a tetanus shot are likely in order," she said, finally, "but I can at least get this patched up for the trip to the hospital."

With that she met Tom's eyes again. He looked a little dazed.

"You were coming over here?"

Sybil looked down and bit her lip. Whatever speech she had concocted when she'd crossed the porch to his side of the building was out the window, so she merely nodded.

"Why?"

It was a logical question, but Sybil was now too aware of how close to him she was to know from logic. "What do you mean why?"

"Why were you coming over?" He smiled. "I was getting the distinct notion that you didn't like me."

Sybil tucked her hair behind her ear again. "Why would you think that?"

Tom's smile turned into a grin. "Because of your not particularly subtle efforts to avoid me when you see me out front."

She felt her cheeks get warm once again and looked down. When she looked back up, his grin had softened into a smile that warmed her all over.

_Say something!_ she told herself, but as she opened her mouth to speak, Caitlin's return saved her from actually having to.

"Here we are!" Caitlin exclaimed, holding up the small white box and handing it to Sybil, who immediately stood up and set it on a nearby table to open it.

"OK, Tom, I'm going home," Caitlin said, turning to leave through the open garage door.

"What? Cait!"

"I have to get home!"

"For what? You just got here. What about your lesson?"

Caitlin laughed. "You're in no position to give it, obviously, and I, um, told mam I'd be home by six."

Tom rolled his eyes. "No, you didn't."

"Actually," Sybil said, looking at Caitlin. "He does need to go to the hospital, and someone should go with him."

"OK, but could maybe _you_ take him? Because I have to get home. Sorry, Tommy, I'll text later OK? Bye!"

And just like that Sybil and Tom were alone.

She walked back over to him slowly, holding some gauze and antibiotic ointment, and kneeled down again.

Tom scratched his forehead with an obviously embarrassed look on his face. He squeezed his eyes together and laughed. "Little sisters, am I right?"

Sybil smiled as she began to clean the cut. "Watch what you say. I'm a little sister."

"Well, I'm sure you're not as much of a handful as mine are."

"My older sisters and my parents would beg to differ. I'm what you'd call the black sheep of the family."

"In what kind of family is the black sheep a doctor?" Tom asked.

Sybil looked him in the eyes and saw nothing but genuine curiosity. She looked back down at what she was doing and answered, "One that's not as interesting as you'd think."

After cleaning the excess blood, Sybil took a cotton swab from the kit and applied the antibiotic to the cut. She worked in silence, feeling his eyes on her the whole time but starting not to feel entirely disarmed in his presence. Once finished, she wrapped a bandage loosely around his bicep.

Looking up at him, she said, "You said, 'you're not as much of a handful as mine _are_.' Does that mean you have more than one younger sister?"

"Two younger and one older."

"Three sisters?" she said with a smile. "That's quite a lot for one man to contend with."

Tom laughed. "Tell me about it. Busybodies, the lot of them, especially when it comes to planning out my life. I'd move away, but at this stage I probably wouldn't know what to do with myself without them."

"So they all live here in Dublin?"

"Yes . . . you've now met all three."

Sybil's brow furrowed. "I have?"

"Caitlin is the youngest, then Sarah, the one you said I needed to be nicer to—and I still want to know what that's about, by the way—then me, then Moira."

Sybil thought back to her exchange with Sarah. _His sister? His sister. His SISTER!_ "Sarah and Moira," she said quietly. "Of course." She put her hand on her forehead and laughed to herself. She looked up at him and found him smiling knowingly at her.

"You thought they were girlfriends, didn't you?"

Sybil crossed her arms. "Even if _they_ aren't, that still doesn't account for the dozen or so others that I've seen come and go since you've moved in."

Tom threw his head back and laughed.

"What?" Sybil said, starting to feel indignant.

"Sarah said this was going to be a thing."

"What are you talking about?"

Tom laughed again and rubbed his face with his hands. "I give private classes on basic car maintenance."

"Oh! And let me guess all of your pupils just happen to be young beautiful single women."

"It's not by design! And not all of them are single!"

Sybil laughed and rolled her eyes. "I'll bet."

"It's true!"

Sybil narrowed her eyes. "How many dates have you gotten out of it?"

"One, which was such a disaster, Moira started booking the appointments for me to root out anyone with ulterior motives. Not that it matters. I haven't been able to keep a girlfriend for more than a month since I was 20."

"Is that supposed to impress me?"

"Wow, you really don't like me do you?"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to," Tom said, scratching his head sheepishly again.

Sybil sighed and looked down guiltily. "It does . . . look funny. All the girls coming in and out. I mean, what else was I supposed to think?"

Tom didn't answer, but looked at Sybil for a long moment. "What do you think now?"

Sybil bit her lip. "Why car maintenance?"

Tom shrugged. "Moira got swindled by a mechanic once so I took it upon myself to educate her and Sarah so it wouldn't happen again. Sarah told all her friends. They told their friends and so on. I've just started with Caitlin, but as you saw, she has the attention span of a fruit fly."

Sybil laughed. "Is that why she left you here injured?"

"No, that was because of you."

"Me?"

Tom smiled a smile that she felt from head to toe. "Like I said. They're busybodies."

Sybil felt herself blush, but for whatever reason, she no longer minded if he noticed. She stood up and took the arm that wasn't injured to help him up as well. "So she left so I would take you."

Tom nodded. "You don't have to, though. I'm happy to take a taxi."

"No, I'll do it," Sybil said with a smile. She squeezed the arm she was holding playfully. "It's not good to disappoint sisters."

* * *

**DAY 27**

The attending doctor who had seen to Tom at the hospital had prescribed him a pain killer after stitching him up, while Sybil waited at the nurse's station and mostly unsuccessfully avoided questions from colleagues about who her friend was ("He's just my neighbor!"). So she insisted to Tom, after it was all done, that he get home, take his medication and rest, but she herself did very little resting once in her own house later. She spent many hours laying in bed thinking about how wrong she she'd been, how funny and interesting and intelligent he was, how well they'd gotten on in what might have been a terribly awkward situation, and what was supposed to happen now.

So she wasn't entirely surprised—but no less touched—when she stepped out her front door the following afternoon to go for a run and found a small vase with flowers with a note on her welcome mat.

_Thank you for coming to my rescue. -T.B._

Sybil couldn't stop herself from smiling as she brought the flowers inside and forced herself to take several deep breaths before going back out to knock on his door.

When she did, he opened it with a slightly concerned look on his face and said, "You may want to run for it while you have the chance!"

Sybil narrowed her eyes. "What?"

"SYBIL! So good to see you again!" Sarah popped up behind Tom and took Sybil's arm to escort her into the kitchen, where Moira was stirring something at the stove and Caitlin was at the table looking at her mobile.

"Perfect beef and barley stew, if I must say so myself," Moira said as she looked up. "Oh, hello!"

Caitlin also smiled at her brightly. "Hi, again."

"Thank you so much for taking care of him last night," Sarah continued. "He can't get out of his own way sometimes."

"I do just fine," Tom put in, "no thanks to sisters who abandon me while I'm bleeding."

Caitlin looked up from for mobile. "Hey! I fetched you a doctor, you big baby."

"It was very kind of you to take him to the hospital," Moira said. "He showed us the stitches. You didn't have to do it yourself, did you?"

"No," Sybil replied. "They likely wouldn't have let me anyway. The emergency care doctors at my hospital like to protect their turf, and I'm actually a pediatrician."

Moira's eyes widened in delight. "You are?!"

"She has two very accident prone boys," Sarah explained.

"Not accident prone so much as too daring for their own good," Moira said.

Sarah laughed. "The phrase, 'Hey mam, watch this!' hasn't gotten so much use since this one," she said pointing to Tom.

"Says the one who did everything I did just to prove she could," Tom replied.

Sybil smiled. "How old are they?"

"Seven and four," Moira answered.

"Wonderful ages to be," Sybil said. "It can be tough on parents, but letting them explore and play really is the best way for them to learn who they are. Telling them to be careful is important but not to the point that it discourages activity. Many pediatricians wouldn't say so, perhaps, but broken bones are much easier to mend than broken spirits."

Moira looked over at Tom. "Oh, Tommy, we are _definitely_ keeping this one."

Sybil bit her lip and looked over at Tom who was scratching his forehead in embarrassment.

"And on that note," Sarah said, looking pointedly at both Moira and Caitlin.

Caitlin stood abruptly. "Uh, yeah, I've got to be home."

"Sure, you do," Tom said, in a tone that suggested he'd seen this coming.

"She does!" Sarah said.

"And so do we," Moira said, putting a lid on the pot she'd been stirring. She quickly grabbed her purse and followed Sarah (who was pulling Caitlin along) out the door toward the front of the house.

Tom and Sybil continued to look at one another as the slam of the front door rang through the house.

"Do they always leave so quickly?" Sybil asked with a smile.

Tom looked at her with a smile for a long moment. "Sometimes they don't leave quickly enough."

Sybil blushed and looked down, not sure what to say or do next.

"So, um . . . fancy some beef and barley stew?" 

* * *

 

**DAY 30**

"OK, I'm done!"

Tom looked at his stopwatch. "Twenty-eight minutes and nineteen seconds."

Sybil was kneeling beside his car, which he'd used to show her how to change a tire because she did not have one herself. After walking her through it twice, he'd tasked her with doing it on her own, without his help or instruction. She'd have to keep practicing, he'd warned, until she could do it in less than thirty minutes using a hand jack and a lug wrench.

"That long?"

"That long?! You did it in less than half an hour on your first try!" Tom laughed as he stood from the lawn chair he'd been sitting in as he watched her work and came over to kneel next to her.

Sybil sat back on her heels and sighed. "I thought I was really moving fast, like I was going to be done in ten."

"Sybil, even I can't do it in ten minutes without power tools."

Sybil crossed her arms in indignation, a gesture and reaction with which, merely three days into their friendship, Tom was already feeling very familiar. "So you're saying if _you_ can't, then I definitely can't—why, because I'm a woman?"

Tom laughed again. "No, because this is literally the first time you've changed a tire on your own and I've done it hundreds of times. And because you don't _have_ to do it in less than ten. You don't even have to do it in less than thirty. I only tell the women I teach that in case you happen to have a blowout at night or in the rain when you're on your own, so you've learned well enough that you don't feel unsafe doing it by yourself because you know it won't take you that long if you pack an electric jack, which you should."

Sybil frowned and looked at the tire on her car again. "All right, but you should know I don't like being told I can't do something."

He smiled. "I could tell, and believe it or not, I like that about you."

"And when I learn something new, I don't just want to learn it, I want to _master_ it."

"I don't think you're getting how impressive it is that you changed a tire in less than half an hour on your first try."

Sybil laughed and buried her face in her hands. "I'm sorry. I can't help it."

"I can't imagine what it would have been like to be your classmate in medical school."

"Would you believe I've mellowed since then?"

"I'm not sure I would, no," he replied, teasingly.

Sybil bit her lip, feeling a wave of nerves hit her all of a sudden. Again.

After his sisters' not-so-subtle departure a few days before, they'd spent the rest of the afternoon and evening together, getting to know one another, but at the end of the night, a panic came over Sybil about whether he was expressing interest due to the prodding of his sisters or because he genuinely liked her, so she made an excuse and left quickly before a potential goodnight kiss moment presented itself. They'd found excuses to see each other each of the next two days, but now Sybil couldn't tell if the romantic chemistry she'd felt on the first night really was there or was merely her imagination.

"So, what's next?" she said, forcing herself not to let silence linger between them too long.

Tom sighed as he stood and held out his hand for her to do the same. "Next is the battery—how to recharge one and how to replace a dead one. But that'll have to be for another day."

"Oh?" Sybil said, her shoulders drooping slightly.

"I have another appointment in about twenty minutes. I'm afraid you can't learn how to change a battery in less than twenty minutes—and lest you want to take that as a challenge, what I mean is that _I_ can't teach you how to do it in twenty minutes."

Sybil laughed and covered her face with her hands again, bending over at the waist slightly before straightening back up to look at him again. The action tousled her hair a bit, but before she could tuck it back behind her ear, he did it for her.

"So—"

"So how much do I owe you?" she asked quickly, for some reason feeling the urge to avert whatever it was he planned on saying.

He looked at her puzzled. "What? Sybil, I'm not going to charge you."

She put her hands on her hips playfully. "There you go telling me my business again. Of course, I'm going to pay you, Tom."

"But—"

"No, this is your livelihood. You can't ask me not to pay. I've taken up so much of your time."

"Actually, I've given it to you," he replied.

"Tom—"

"Sybil, do you even own a car?"

The question stopped her short.

_Busted._

She looked him in the eyes, then smiled, looking away, knowing her cheeks were likely giving her away before she could even answer. "No."

Tom put his hands behind his back and leaned forward slightly so their eyes were level. "So why are you here?"

Sybil rolled her eyes at his knowing look, but couldn't keep the smile of her face. "You."

"And you think I'm not here for the same reason?"

Sybil crossed her arms and looked down. "I think maybe you're here because you love your sisters and, apparently, they love me."

Tom laughed. "May I try to convince you otherwise—not about the fact that they love you, which is true, but about me?"

Sybil looked into his eyes. "Sure, but how do you plan on doing that?"

And he kissed her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the same story but from Tom's point of view. All of these vignettes take place the same day as those in chapter 1, which were from Sybil's point of view. Some happen before the corresponding Sybil moments, and some happen after. 
> 
> (Also, Tom and his sisters are inspired by myself, my sisters and my brother, who is outnumbered 5 to 1. I am the Moira of the bunch.)

  **1 Day**

"Oh, I forgot to say this earlier, but your neighbor was checking you out."

Tom looked up from the box he was unpacking in his new kitchen and frowned when he spotted his youngest sister Caitlin sitting on the sofa with her feet up on his coffee table. "The doing nothing is really helpful."

Caitlin rolled her eyes. "I'm taking a break."

"Taking a break implies that you've been working."

"Have you looked at your bookshelves?! They did not unpack themselves!"

Tom laughed. "Fair enough, but there's plenty more to do is all I'm saying."

Caitlin leaned back on the sofa again. "You need a girlfriend."

"So I don't have to ask my little sister to help me unpack?"

"So she can keep you from hoarding all this junk."

Tom huffed, offended. "I only have a lot of two things, books and tools, both of which happen to be related to how I make a living."

Caitlin laughed. "And they're both also very heavy."

Tom laughed. "Can't argue with that, I suppose."

"So have you met her?"

"Met who?"

"Your neighbor."

"Oh, uh … yeah. Briefly. That wasn't her at the window. She's a brunette, not a ginger."

"Both of them were at the window, and both were getting a good look. Was she nice?"

"We didn't talk long, but she seems so. She's English."

"Really?"

Tom nodded. "Posh, too, by the sound of her."

Caitlin pulled her mobile from her pocket. "What did you say her name was?"

"Sybil Crawley."

Tom continued to unpack for a few silent minutes while Caitlin looked at her phone, but almost dropped a plate when he heard her exclaim loudly, "Feck me! She's a royal!"

Tom looked up alarmed. "What?!"

"I've googled her. First link is an article referencing her father, some Lord Robert Crawley. He's the earl of grantham, whatever that is."

"It's probably someone else."

"Sybil Crawley—that's not that common a name."

"What would an upper class girl want to do with living in dumpy Dublin?"

"Why don't you ask her," Caitlin said playfully.

"I really doubt it's her."

"There's a picture with the article.

Tom came over to where Caitlin was sitting and took her phone. "Let me see that." _What do you know_ , he thought looking at the picture.

Caitlin smiled as she watched her brother. She knew his looks well, and she could tell he was intrigued.

After a long moment of looking at the photo, he shrugged and handed it back to her.

Caitlin looked at the picture again. "She's pretty."

"Picture doesn't do her justice," Tom said quietly, almost to himself.

Caitlin laughed. "You do have eyes."

Tom smirked. "I don't think getting involved with my neighbor is a good idea, but I am not above admitting that she's gorgeous."

"You should offer her free car lessons."

"I don't think she has one as it happens. That's why I was allowed to take the whole garage."

"It says here that she—"

"Don't!"

"What?"

Tom sighed. "I don't want to know anything she wouldn't tell me herself or seem like I know things about her I shouldn't."

Caitlin rolled her eyes. "Fine."

Tom smiled. Despite the fact that she had just turned 21, there was still a measure of teenage petulance about her. But he also wouldn't have his stubborn, feisty little sister any other way.

As he continued to pack, Tom felt his phone vibrate from incoming texts in his back pocket. He smiled again.

**Branson sibling group text**

Caitlin: Tom's got a crush on his neighbor.  
Caitlin: He'll deny of course  
Caitlin: She's gorgeous  
Caitlin: His word  
Tom: I'm across the room from you.  
Moira: She's not talking to you, obvs  
Caitlin: Thx mo  
Sarah: Scoop?  
Caitlin: She's English and posh.  
Caitlin: Read on (LINK)  
Tom: Caitlin please stop  
Caitlin: You don't have to bloody read it!

* * *

  **4 Days**

** Branson sibling group text  **

Tom: Sarah, where are you?  
Tom: Saaarahhhh!  
Tom: Seriously, where are you?!  
Moira: Guessing her phone is dead.  
Caitlin: Sarah, not charging her mobile? No way! (/sarcasm)  
Caitlin: Maybe you can text her landline. lmao  
Tom: I just talked with Sean. She went to my house and I went to her office. Confusion all around. Da's birthday present shopping must wait to tomorrow.  
Caitlin: I can come tomorrow!  
Tom: yay  
Moira: Me too!  
Moira: That was a sarcastic yay  
Tom: how do you know?  
Caitlin: WE JUST KNOW  
Caitlin: LOL  
Tom: I just don't want to over think it. And the more of us are together, the less we get done. FACT  
Caitlin: BUT WE HAVE MORE FUN  
Moira: WHY ARE WE YELLING  
Caitlin: Sorry. had to yell on another text and forgot caps were still on  
Tom: ok, tomorrow at 3 pm. meeting at Mo's. no one is late!  
Moira: Why mine?  
Caitlin: You have food  
Tom: what she said

...

Sarah: mobile charged  
Sarah: finally  
Caitlin: Congratulations  
Sarah: ok, I'll just shut it off and you won't hear about my conversation with "gorgeous" neighbor Sybil.  
Caitlin: AAAAAAAHHH!  
Moira: what! share share share please!  
Sarah: She's so lovely. I knocked on her door when I realized Tommy had left without me. I used her phone to call Sean.  
Caitlin: decorating style–good, bad, ugly?  
Sarah: I was only in her front room, of course, but good. Nothing fancy. Lots of books. LOTS. Rivals Tommy  
Caitlin: Did you hear that Tom? She's your soulmate!  
Sarah: and she had a landline. haha  
Moira: so she's YOUR soulmate. lol  
Caitlin: Sean will be sad. divorce over wife of two months' inability to cut cord  
Sarah: haha  
Sarah: but seriously. she's really nice.  
Sarah: You should make friends, Tommy  
Sarah: Hellooooo  
Caitlin: He's probably ignoring us  
Tom: I am ;)  
Moira: It's OK, we'll fill you in when it's time to pick china patterns  
Caitlin: haha

Tom laughed out loud at his older sisters' last text. Moira, Sarah and Caitlin often joked about the women they wanted him to marry. Sybil hadn't been the first, they'd expressed interest in, though he had to admit that she was the first—at least the first in a long time—in whom he was interested. He hadn't been lying when he told Caitlin that dating his neighbor was not a good idea. But since she'd shown him Sybil's picture in the Hello Magazine article she'd found about Sybil's family, he hadn't been able to shake the idea of getting to know her. Not that it mattered since, he also hadn't had much time to do anything but work lately. The appointments for car classes were coming on nonstop—to the point that his freelancing was taking a back-seat to all else.

So many clients were coming in and out of the garage that he wondered whether he should let Sybil know, in case the activity bothered her.

_Sybil_.

Tom shook his head at laughed at himself, deciding to change and go for a run to clear his head. Ten or so minutes later, he was locking his door when he saw Sybil coming up the walk to her own door.

_Cosmic timing_ , he thought, smiling to himself. But as soon as he looked up with what he hoped was a genuine expression, she put her head down and practically ran through her entryway, almost slamming the door behind her.

Puzzled, he looked at her now closed door for a long minute before letting out a long sigh and going on his way.

_Better luck next time._  

* * *

 

** 10 Days **

As she walked into her brother's house, Sarah laughed on seeing Tom splayed out, face down, on his couch. "That bad?"

Tom rolled over slowly, but couldn't stop himself from falling on the floor, which caused Sarah to laugh even louder.

Tom rolled his eyes as he pushed himself up to sitting, but stayed on the floor. "I appreciate the support."

Sarah walked over to help him up, and the two siblings sat down next to each other on the sofa. "So how many appointments did you have today?"

Tom sighed, leaning back and closing his eyes. "Six, and after staying up all night to finish a freelance assignment."

"At least you're getting paid, right?"

He sighed again. "I suppose."

"I thought you liked giving classes," Sarah said. "It helped you get this place."

"The extra money between assignments helps. I just wasn't expecting it to take over my life."

Sarah watched him for a moment. Writing meant so much to Tom, but he'd not yet had the success she knew he was still capable of. She'd suggested doing the classes on car maintenance on the side to make extra cash, but she also knew her brother better than anyone else. He didn't do things halfway. _Of course, it took over his life,_ she thought. _What he needs now is something that will keep him from being pulled in a single direction. Something that will balance him. Something or SOMEONE._

"I saw your neighbor Sybil on my way in," she said quietly. "How's _that_ going?"

Tom chuckled. "How is _what_ going?"

"You know … you getting to know her."

"It isn't."

"And why not?"

Tom opened his eyes again, turning to look at Sarah as he did so. "I get that you're a newlywed and happy, but it really doesn't mean you have to find a spouse for everyone else. Not all of us are lucky enough to have found our soulmate at 17."

Sarah smirked. "I just want you to be as happy as I am."

"I know." And he did. For all her teasing, Tom knew Sarah was sincere in her interest in his love life. Being the closest in age to him, Sarah had been her brother's keeper from the moment she'd been born. She'd idolized him as a child and made herself his guardian when it became clear (via the interest of her friends somewhere around age 15) that Tom attracted female attention.

"I see her outside sometimes, coming and going," he said offhandedly. "She never seems eager to chat."

Sarah laughed.

"What?"

"I know that with you, you turn your head and the girls are just _there_ , but surely you can bother yourself with making a bit of an effort."

Tom scratched his head, and Sarah smiled, watching him. She found it amusing that for someone who was so fantastically confident, it was hard for most people to spot that he was actually something of an introvert.

"Just make some excuse," she said. "Knock on her door and say you had a question about where to hang a picture or something."

"Well, she's got some boxes in the garage."

"Perfect!"

"And that's it?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Well, no, but it's a start."

* * *

  **23 Days**

"Uncle Tommy!"

As soon as the door to Moira's house opened, Tom was jumped by his two nephews who, after almost knocking him down in their exuberant greeting, dragged him into the sitting room, which they'd turned into a pillow fort.

"Hey, uncle Tommy, watch this!" Liam, the older of the two boys, exclaimed before climbing to the back of the pillow-free sofa and jumping onto the fort on the floor, which collapsed under him.

"My turn, my turn!" said Kellen, who was three years younger than 7-year-old Liam, but not so young that he didn't try everything his older brother did.

Just as he was getting to the top of the sofa, Moira came in. "What have you done to my sofa!"

"You said to go play!" Liam replied. "We're playing!"

"You can't argue with that logic, sis," Tom said with a laugh.

Moira sighed. "Fine, but you'll be putting it all back before da gets home."

"Yay!" both boys cried.

With a laugh, Moira motioned for Tom to follow her and the two went into her study in the back of the house, next to the kitchen. "Next couple of weeks are all booked up," she said, handing him a print out of the schedule of classes she had set up for him.

"Thanks," Tom said as he sat down on one of the chairs in front of Moira's desk.

Moira watched him for a moment. "Miss Bunting asked me about you today, when I was picking up Liam from school."

Tom scratched the back of his head. "Did she?"

Moira nodded. "Said you guys had drinks the other night. You never said anything about asking her out again."

Tom rolled his eyes. "Because I didn't. We happened to be at the same political event. There were drinks present. A coincidence, not a date."

Moira laughed. "Maybe she's trying that trick where if she wills something hard enough, it will happen."

"She's nice enough and we agree on a fair amount of things, but …" Tom shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. Maybe I should take her out. See if there's anything there."

"Please don't," Moira said.

"No?" Tom replied, surprised by her response.

"If you don't like her, it's not nice to lead her on, and I don't want any broken hearts to be taken out on my son's marks."

Tom smiled. "I don't think she'd do that, but your first point is well taken."

"Did anything ever happen with the neighboring doctor?"

Tom shook his head, the disappointment obvious.

"It'll happen when it happens," Moira said quietly.

Tom didn't answer, just looked back down at the paper in his hands.

"I know with Sarah having just married a boy she's been seeing since she was a teenager and known all her life, it feels as if you're behind schedule, but you're not. She's the exception, not the rule. A nice girl that turns you on upstairs and, um, downstairs, will come to rescue you one day. Just you wait."

Tom laughed. "Thanks for that." 

* * *

 

** 26 Days **

Sybil and Tom went into Tom's house so he could change into a clean shirt and find his wallet and keys. Sybil called for a taxi in the meantime, and by the time he was ready, the car was there. It was a short drive, as Sybil's hospital was only a few blocks away, and Tom and Sybil remained in a companionable silence until it came time to pay the fare.

Both reached for their wallets at the same time, and seeing this, Tom spoke up, "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to pay," Sybil replied.

Tom shook his head. "That's ridiculous," he said and closed his hand over both of hers, pushing them and the bills they held back into her bag, which was open on her lap.

"No, it isn't. I insist."

"Sybil, the only reason we even had to get into the taxi in the first place was because I injured myself. There's no way you're getting this."

"No, the reason we are _coming to the hospital_ is that you injured yourself. The reason we're in the taxi is that _I_ chose to call one."

"And you wouldn't have had to if it weren't for me!"

"Tom—"

"I hate to interrupt this lover's spat, but the meter's running here," the driver cut in, sensing that the quarrel was not going to end any time soon.

Sybil quickly pulled her hand out from under Tom's and threw several bills onto the front seat. "Here," she said, "keep the change."

Tom sighed loudly, which made Sybil laugh. He liked the way her eyes closed when she did so. He shook his head with a smile and said, "This isn't over," before getting out onto the curb and extending his hand so she could do the same.

Once inside the hospital Tom was checked in quickly, but had to wait to see a doctor on account of having arrived at nearly the same time as several people injured in a multiple-vehicle accident. When he saw that it was Sybil's intention to wait with him until he was finished, he said, "You don't have to stay."

She smiled and shrugged her shoulders. "I have nowhere to be, and anyway, you might need help getting home after."

"If by help, you mean I need you to pay for my taxi, then no, I most certainly will not."

Sybil laughed. "Do you make it a practice not to accept favors from friends?" she asked teasingly.

He opened his mouth to respond, but he registered what she said, and it gave him pause. "Are we friends?"

Sybil looked down at her hands. "I suppose not … we could be, if you like."

Tom looked at her for a long moment. It seemed to him as if that last had taken some effort for her to say. "Would you like?"

Sybil smiled a smile that he felt all over. "I would, previous behaviors suggesting the contrary notwithstanding. But honestly, it's not as if I paid the driver more than I would have for a small coffee. It was hardly a fortune."

"And I suppose you would know what that is," Tom said offhandedly.

"What?"

As soon as the words had come out, Tom put his hand over his mouth. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to … I didn't look you up or anything. It's only that … well, like I said about my sisters being busybodies. Nothing entertains them like the internet."

Sybil smiled. "It's all right. Stuff about my family isn't particularly hard to find, given who my father is."

Tom watched her for a moment as she played with the strap of her bag on her lap.

After a long quiet moment, she turned to him with a look of curiosity on her face. "This is usually when people ask who my father is," she said.

"I don't want to ask about anything you don't want to share."

"It's not that I don't want to share exactly … more like it doesn't matter. None of it is really me."

"Is that why you came here? To Ireland?"

Sybil sighed. "I guess you could say. But mostly I was chasing my best friend. She and her husband moved here, and after a year, I realized I could not live without them. But I do like it here, as odd as it is for an English girl to say."

"Odd or not," Tom said, "I'm glad you're here." 

* * *

 

** 27 Days **

A dull pain in his shoulder woke Tom the following morning. He blinked his eyes several times as he got used to the light, and as he got his wits about him realized that at some point during the night he'd rolled over onto his cut shoulder. He rolled back over onto his back and stared at the ceiling for a moment.

Then, he thought of Sybil and he smiled.

As the events of the afternoon and evening played over in his mind, he realized that he never asked her again why she'd come over. He was still curious, but it was not as if it mattered to him. He was just glad she had come. Not because she had been the one to take him to the hospital, but because she'd stayed with him there. And they'd talked. And talked. And talked.

It was a good two hours before a doctor saw him. But they could have stayed away all night so far as Tom was concerned, so enthralled he was by her intelligence, her wit, the way she looked down and furrowed her brow when she was thinking about how to respond to something. They'd talked about all sorts of things and none of it had done anything to quell Tom's interest in her. So when they finally made it home he was prepared to do all he could so she would allow him to remain in her presence. Being who she was, however, Sybil would not budge when insisting that Tom follow his doctor's orders, take his painkiller and take his rest.

Looking at the clock now, nearly 11 o'clock in the morning, Tom laughed. He hadn't slept this late in years and quietly conceded that perhaps he really had needed it. Still, now that he was awake, he wasn't going to waste any more time.

He jumped out of bed, showered and dressed quickly, and was at his door, ready to step out, when it occurred to him that he should bring Sybil some sort of thank you gift. So instead of going out the front door, he went to the back and the garage and headed to a flower shop near his parents' house.

Once there, he felt a bit overwhelmed by the selection. Roses didn't seem appropriate. They were beautiful, but looking at them now, Tom thought they felt oddly impersonal. He circled the store four times, to the point that the clerk at the register wondered if she should ask Tom if he was lost. She watched him for another minute and decided to offer some help.

"What would she buy for herself?"

Tom turned to see the woman, who looked to him to be in her 70s, amble over to him.

"When a lad your age wanders in here, he usually goes straight for the red roses."

"Not really right for the occasion," Tom answered.

"But I take it, these wouldn't be for mam?"

Tom laughed and shook his head. "Definitely not."

"Well, then, what would she choose for herself?"

"I don't know her very well."

The woman, whose head barely came to the middle of Tom's chest, looked up to him with skepticism in his eyes. "You've just me a girl and already you want to buy her flowers?"

"She did me a favor."

"And you want to say something that says a little bit more than just 'thanks,' do ya?"

Tom laughed. "That's about right."

"So what would you buy for yourself then, then?"

"I don't usually buy flowers for myself."

"Entirely beside the point."

Tom smiled and with a scratch of his head, looked around again. Finally, his eyes landed on an arrangement of yellow tulips in a small vase. "I like that one."

"It's yours," the woman said, going over to get it and handing it to Tom.

"How much?" he asked.

"I said it's yours," she replied.

"I can't just take this."

"You're not. I'm giving it to you."

"Why?"

"Because you look like you want to say a great deal more than thanks, so I reckon you'll be back soon and often."

Tom looked down at the flowers. "I hope so."

xxx

Later, when he got back home. He walked over to Sybil's side of the porch and raised his fist to knock. It occurred to him, though, that despite what he might want to say, maybe "thanks" and nothing more was all she was after.

He set the flowers down at her door step, ran back into his own house to write a note and then left it next to the flowers.

If there was to be more between them, it would be up to her.

 

* * *

 

30 Days

**_Branson sibling group text_ **

_Moira: So when is Sybil coming over today?_ _  
_ _Sarah: I've asked twice offline. He's not answering! :(_ _  
_ _Sarah: Tooooooooooommmmyyyyyyy!_ _  
_ _Sarah: Your loving sisters are desperate for details about your burgeoning romance_ _  
_ _Moira: Pretty please!_ _  
_ _Tom: You two are incorrigible_ _  
_ _Moira: We just want you to be happy! And also know everything and help you strategize and also live vicariously_ _  
_ _Moira: Not too much to ask I think ;)_ _  
_ _Sarah: Just tell us or we'll be forced to write fanfic_ _  
_ _Tom: Do you even know what that is?_ _  
_ _Moira: Not exactly, but Caitlin suggested it was very entertaining_ _  
_ _Tom: *sigh*_ _  
_ _Sarah: OMG, he's sighing. It's serious._ _  
_ _Tom: lol_ _  
_ _Sarah: We're just excited that this maybe possibly could be something_ _  
_ _Caitlin: All thanks to me!_ _  
_ _Tom: …_ _  
_ _Caitlin: Do you honestly wish I'd have shooed her away and taken you to the hospital myself?_ _  
_ _Tom: …_ _  
_ _Tom: no_ _  
_ _Caitlin: lol. EXACTLY_ _  
_ _Tom: If you must know, yes, we made plans for today._ _  
_ _Moira: *screams internally*_ _  
_ _Sarah: What are you doing? Dinner? Drinks?_ _  
_ _Tom: Not quite. I'm teaching her how to change a tire._ _  
_ _Caitlin: GROAN_ _  
_ _Tom: Hey, I'm doing this MY WAY. anyway, he said she wanted to learn._ _  
_ _Moira: Well, have fun :) (and report back)_ _  
_ _Sarah: I can't say the greaser mechanic thing doesn't work for you–I have unfortunately been a party (unwillingly) to too many conversations with my friends about how well it works for you_ _  
_ _Caitlin: lol_ _  
_ _Caitlin: just remember to bloody KISS her this time_ _  
_ _Tom: Cait, nobody wants us to kiss more than me_ _  
_ _Moira: Aw! He's besotted, poor dear_ _  
_ _Tom: leaving now_ _  
_ _Sarah: lmao_


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picking up where the final scene in chapter one leaves off . . .

 

As he leaned down to kiss her, Tom had planned for it to be short and sweet—enough for him to declare his intentions unequivocally, but not so much that she'd be overwhelmed or feel pressured in any way.

He even kept his hands behind his back.

As soon as their lips touched, however, that plan was out the window.

Sybil responded immediately and grabbed Tom's face. So Tom, in turn, grabbed her around the waist and pulled her in. As their kiss deepened, Sybil moved her arms around his neck.

Despite only realizing that she was crushing on him when Gwen pointed out the obvious, Sybil had done a fair amount of fantasizing about her fit neighbor—fantasies she had, up until this moment, no intention of trying to fulfill.

That was out the window, too.

Because as she felt his arms come around her and pull her flush into his firm chest, the very many ways she wanted to kiss him came rushing into her mind.

Eventually, they pulled away to breath, chests heaving, still clutching one another.

The left corner of Tom's lips quirked up into a small lopsided smile. "Convinced?"

Sybil smiled back. "Actually, no. If I'm to be sure of your intentions, I think you need to do that again."

Tom grinned before leaning down for another kiss that also lasted several minutes. Tom moved his hands down to Sybil's rump and slowly caressed her down her thigh, then gently lifted her up and set her down on the car just behind her.

Later, Sybil wondered just how far they'd have gone if his doorbell hadn't rung to announce the arrival of his next appointment.

Even later still, Tom would have trouble remembering how he managed to get through the hour-long session without jumping out of his skin with desire for Sybil.

* * *

**One Year Later**

**Branson Siblings group text**

Moira: Tommy, how is the move going?  
Tom: It's going  
Sarah: That doesn't sound very enthusiastic  
Tom: It's not at all enthusiastic  
Sarah: aw, why?  
Tom: i hate moving. why else?  
Caitlin: lol. you always say that when you move and yet i don't know anyone who has moved as many times as you.  
Tom: ugh. i know. this is the last time. well, for a while at least. I hope  
Sarah: are you honestly saying you'd rather not be moving right now  
Tom: obviously not  
Moira: aw, lol  
Moira: Well, go back to unpacking. I'm bringing stew over tonight  
Tom: thank you  
Sarah: Sean and and I are bringing beer  
Tom: THANK YOU  
Moira: What are you bringing Caity?  
Caitlin: myself  
Caitlin: you're welcome  
Tom: haha  
Caitlin: and cake ;p

**Branson women group text**

Sarah: OK, I just asked Tommy how the move is going. How is it really going?  
Sybil: it's going  
Caitlin: lmao that is literally what he answered  
Sybil: :) we should have taken Sarah's advice and moved his things one day and mine on another  
Sybil: combining houses in one go was a bit too much  
Moira: should I bring dishes and spoons along with dinner?  
Sybil: no, I bought some plasticware, but thank you!  
Sarah: well, all you really need to do tonight is put the bed together  
Caitlin: Sarah, ew  
Sarah: TO SLEEP!  
Sybil: lol. I better get back to it. Tom is giving me funny looks from across the room  
Moira: see you tonight!  
Sybil put her phone back in her pocket and opened another box.   


Tom smiled as he watched her from across the room. "They text you more than they text me now."

Sybil looked up and laughed. "I highly doubt that."

They both went back to unpacking and did so in companionable silence until about ten minutes later, when Sybil felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. She pulled it out and smiled when she saw the text on her screen.

Tom: I love you  
Tom: in case you were wondering  
Sybil: :)  
Sybil: I love you too


End file.
